Harry Potter and the Threshold of Whispers Year 7
by Yavinbase
Summary: Harry has been planning the war against Voldemort since year 6. How can he win, though? Voldemort is more powerful, skilled, and experienced. And where are the horcruxes? Where can he draw the line between good and evil? What values will he break to win?
1. Ambush

Author's Note:

This story is for all of you who were not quite satisfied with J.K. Rowling's version of the seventh book. I would write the fifth and sixth if I weren't too lazy, and if I thought anyone would be willing to go to the trouble of reading an entire AU version of the last three Harry Potter books. While reading this, please keep in mind that this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction story. Any criticisms would be appreciated, but please don't be too harsh.

Thanks to my sister, who provided many ideas, entire sections of the storyline, who reviewed the chapter scrupulously, and who also had compiled all of the loose plotline ends in the first four books. She's essentially the co-author, aside from the fact that she's not actually penning any of the chapters – so far.

The characters and most locations (Of course, not London or anything) in this story are property of J.K. Rowling.

---

Harry blinked wearily over his parchment-laden desk. Since Dumbledore's death the previous school year, he'd made several realizations. Ironically enough, most were caused directly by the arrogant show Snape had put on the previous year while fleeing the scene of his crime, and all were geared toward killing the evil that Snape represented. The first was that, if Harry was going to beat Voldemort, he would need to learn Occlumency, as Snape had demonstrated when blocking every curse Harry had attempted to throw at him.

The second was that he'd need to study harder than he'd ever studied in school. Harry had never actually beaten someone in a duel based on skill. In his first year, it'd been his mother's love that had saved him from Quirrel. Against the basilisk, his victory had also been one of luck. His only success against a wizard had been in his fourth year, and had only been with extreme aid of his and Voldemort's wands' twin cores. Voldemort would, presumably, be able to get around this. He had, after all, kidnapped Ollivander, and could undoubtedly coerce the wandmaker into making a new, and more powerful, wand. If Harry was to beat Voldemort, he'd have to not only know more spells than he already did, but be so comfortable with them that he could attack and defend himself so easily that it was second nature. If he was to have a chance against Voldemort, he'd have to be able to countercurse subconsciously, so as to be able to think while fighting. This strategy would also, Harry hoped, help protect him against Voldemort's infamous Legilimency skills.

In order to acquire such skill, Harry knew he would have to practice almost without end. In preparation for the time after which he could practice magic legally, Harry had mailed Flourish and Blotts requesting all maner of books on a wide variety of magic. They'd responded with surprise at such a large order, and – along with sending him a list of all recommended books and a total bill – had queried why he'd requested so many books. He'd politely declined to answer, and had sent the money, along with a request that the large order of books be sent in a bag he'd had Hermione enchant with a concealed expansion charm and a weight-reducing charm, along a route that would prevent any Death Eaters from suspecting it was an order – particularly one of such magnitude - of Harry's.

Harry had planned and put into action several other plans, as well. One included mailing various shops at Knockturn Alley in order to obtain books on the Dark Arts, to enable him to foresee protections Voldemort might have put on the Horcruxes. Another included recalling as many Occlumency excercises as he could remember from his classes with Snape, and practicing them until he could no longer focus, or until he had fallen asleep. He'd written out all of his plans, and was, in the time before the owl from Flourish and Blotts arrived carrying his deceptively small package, falling into a pattern of studying and improving them, brainstorming possible horcruxes and their locations, and practicing the strangely elusive skill of Occlumency. He'd given himself no time to lament Dumbledore's death, and had locked himself in his room, away from the Dursleys, until a knock sounded from the door.

Having worked himself into a state of heightened anxiety, – which he had cultivated, thinking it would help him focus on his goals – Harry pulled out his wand, pointed it at the door, a curse on his lips, and flung it open. To his surprise, it was his Aunt Petunia, looking decidedly flustered. After registering the sight, his arm dropped to his side, and he blurted, more harshly than he'd intended, "What do you want?"

"Let me in; I need to speak with you." Her eyes roved the room behind him, pausing momentarily upon the parchment-strewn desk.

Harry stepped aside, quickly flipping the top parchment on each pile so as to conceal the contents. He pulled the chair away from the desk and across the small room apparently to face the bed and curiously watched his aunt close the door and seat herself in the chair. She had never shown the smallest compulsion to come near his room, much less have a discussion in it. She closed the door behind her. "Could you make sure we aren't heard?"

Harry balked. It was particularly out of character for her to acknowledge the existence of magic, much less ask Harry to perform some. "You know I can't do it out of school. Not until I'm seventeen, anyway."

"Then keep your voice down," she whispered, and Harry had the strangest feeling that mysteries that had been built up over previous years were about to be unraveled for him. "You told us, last year, that You-Know-Who is back, right?"

"What? Of course. Yeah. Why?"

"Dumbledore told me that you were to be kept here until your seventeenth birthday, at which time you'd be left unprotected at this house."

"Yes, but –"

"Let me finish, boy! You-Know-Who will do anything he can to get at you. He'll even kidnap us in order to get to you. Once the protection is down, he'll come after us." Despite his preparations, Harry hadn't foreseen this, but he knew it to be true once she'd said it. "How are we to be protected?" The battle within Harry was monumental. How did she expect him to help them, who had always scorned, spited, and abused him? They had, at least, lent him some protection, but unknowingly. Or had it been unknowingly? Had Petunia known? Not for the first time, Harry wondered how extensive her knowledge of the wizarding world was. Petunia must've seen or expected his reaction, because she continued, "We have not been the kindest to you, but we have offered you protection."

And he decided to level it with her. "What did Dumbledore mean, Aunt Petunia? 'Remember my last,' he said."

"Now's not the time, Harry. You are placing the rest of us in extreme danger. Are you going to give us protection?" Could he? Was there anywhere safe? They could perform a Fidelius Charm, but Harry didn't know even what the premises were for choosing a location upon which to place such a charm, much less how to perform one.

"Vernon agrees with you?" he said absentmindedly. Her reaction was curious, but Harry didn't know quite how to read it.

"Not exactly, no. I can persuade him, though, if you'd be willing to afford us the same protection that we've given you your entire life."

Even acknowledging the fact that she was obviously trying to manipulate him, something inside Harry gave way. "If I had a place, I'd let you go there."

"Don't you? Didn't Dumbledore say –"

"I don't know whether or not Grimmauld Place is safe. More importantly, though, I don't think that Vernon or Dudley can go there. It's got anti-muggle wards. You might be able to go, since you had a witch in your immediate family." She tried to conceal the sour look she made as he completed his statement.

"And the Weasleys'?"

Harry was dumbfounded. He stammered, "I– I … They … You're … W- What?"

"Can the Weasleys offer us a place to live?"

"I can find you a place. Is that all you wanted? To ask me to give you protection, after all these years of your mistreating me?"

"I wanted to tell you that You-Know-Who will expect you to leave the night of the seventeenth, so you should –"

"Leave earlier. I know. I've got that planned. Death Eaters do, too. There's been a person watching the house since school got out." Petunia's face paled. "I was planning to leave as soon as Hedwig came back."

"What about the Order of the Phoenix? Can they get us out of here?" Harry now lost the ability to speak. Not all wizards knew about the Order, and yet here, in one of the most anti-wizard homes that ever existed, sat a muggle – or perhaps a squib – who knew about it. Had Dumbledore told her of it? "As you said, there are Death Eaters outside the house."

Harry could see he wouldn't get any information out of her unless he guaranteed her protection here, on the spot. "Dobby!" he said aloud, startling his aunt. The orb-eyed elf appeared.

"Harry Potter called, sir?"

"Dobby, do you know where the Burrow is?"

"That is where the Wheezies live, Harry Potter, yes, but how does Dobby get there?"

"It's by Ottery St. Catchpole; Eleven-fifty-two, tower court. Dobby, could you go to their house and ask Mr. Weasley if he knew of anywhere three muggles could stay safely? If he offers the Burrow, mention that they are my family, and he might change his mind."

Dobby looked overjoyed to be performing a task for the person who'd freed him from his abusive masters. "Yes, Dobby will be glad to do so!" He nodded emphatically so as to emphasize the fact. Before he could disappear, however, Harry interrupted him again.

"Can you perform Side-Along Apparition with muggles?"

"Yes, Harry Potter."

"Good. Thank you very much, Dobby." The elf smiled broadly and disappeared with a loud _crack_. Harry looked at Petunia. "There you have it. I've done what I can to help you get out safely. Is there anything else you want of me?" She hesitated, then shook her head. There was obviously something she wanted to say, but she didn't say it yet. Why was she holding back? Did she want to be leaving the house before she said it? "Now we've got a little time to ourselves. Can I ask you a question?" She nodded, and glanced briefly out the window. Looking closer at her, Harry realized that she looked significantly paler than usual. Harry mirrored the action, and saw nothing out of the normal outside. "How did you know about the dementors guarding Azkaban, and what is your connection with Dumbledore?" Petunia paled further, and slowly began talking.

"I … Where is Dumbledore?"

Harry's stomach clenched, and pain rose in his throat. "Dumbledore's dead. He was killed last year –" He was cut off by the crack of Dobby apparating.

"Harry Potter, sir, Mister Wheezy said that 'they are already planning your escape,' and told me to keep you here."

"Would you mind taking him back a message?"

"Anything, Harry Potter!"

"Tell him that I've planned my own escape. I've got too much stuff to go with you, and any planned escape could go badly wrong. I don't trust Mundungus not to sell us out, nor do I trust that Snape couldn't anticipate whatever they've got planned and tell Voldemort about it." Dobby's small figure disappeared again. "Continue, Aunt Petunia."

"You were talking. Telling me how he was killed."

Harry felt a slight stab of anger. "You haven't answered any of my questions, Petunia. You deigned to force your way into my room, asked me to protect you, and then start questioning me. You haven't given me any information I asked for." Petunia glanced out the window, then at the door. "And you keep looking at the –"

Again, Harry was cut off by a crack, but seeing that Dobby had not returned yet, Harry found that his snowy owl, Hedwig, was rapping on the window. He sprang to open the window, fearful that a Death Eater might notice, and Hedwig flew into the room and handed him her package. "Thank you, Hedwig. I'm sorry, I don't have food for you right now. It's not safe for you to go back outside now. Get in your cage." She bit his finger hard enough to draw blood, and soared into her cage. Harry could now not afford the time to feel sorry for having restricted her freedom. He picked up the package which he knew was too light for its contents, and told Petunia, "Now leave. Get ready for Dobby to take you wherever they've planned."

She looked affronted. "That… rodent?! He's going to take us?"

Harry's hand brushed his pocket-holstered wand. "Yes. Get ready. You wanted to leave to safety, and I want some time alone before I do the same."

"What are you planning?" Petunia raised her voice, pointing at the pieces of parchment on the desk.

"Leave, Petunia!"

"Get out of my house!" She shrieked. Harry was speechless. Stuffing the papers into his enchanted bag, and throwing that into his suitcase, he started putting his plan into action. Harry Threw his invisibility cloak over himself, lifted his suitcase broom, and Hedwig's cage, and began clambering down the stairs. "I want to be able to see you as you leave! Never endanger this family again!" She screamed, and as he reached the bottom of the staircase and turned to leave the back door, she said, "You will go out the front door!"

Several things then happened at once. A cold chill swept through the house. The sound of shattering glass filled the house, accompanied by the sound of the doors being blasted in. Thankful for his anxiety-heightened reflexes, Harry called, "Kreacher! Dobby!" The two elves appeared at once. "Dobby, get the Dursleys out, and keep yourself safe. Kreacher, take me to Grimmauld Place." Dobby scurried off, deflecting curses and sending Death Eaters into the walls of the house.

Out of reflex, he sent his stag patronus soaring through the room, protecting the house from the oncoming dementors. Seeing Bellatrix, Harry cried, "Stupefy!" and followed the spell by sweeping his wand across the room and thinking, "_levicorpus_" Some Death Eaters hung by their feet in the air, but others merely kept running, now with a target location. "Kreacher, now!" The house elf touched his filled hand, and Harry felt himself sucked through the vacuum that was the typical sign of Apparition.

When they had arrived, he said, "Thank you, Kreacher. You just saved my life." The house elf looked startled. "Now, if you'd be so kind, could you go back and help Dobby? Make sure neither of you gets hurt. And once everyone's safe," he stared into Kreacher's begrudging eyes, "Stun the muggle, Petunia." Kreacher's face gave a small sign of joy. "Don't hurt her or anyone else – aside from the Death Eaters, if need be – just stun her. Do you understand? Oh, you don't know where it is, do you?" Without waiting for a response, Harry continued, "It's by Ottery St. Catchpole; Eleven-fifty-two, tower court."

"Yes, master." Kreacher bowed.

"Thank you, Kreacher. Now go." As the elf Disapparated, Harry collapsed to his knees. How he had known what had happened, he could only guess.


	2. The Burrow

Author's Note:

This story is for all of you who were not quite satisfied with J.K. Rowling's version of the seventh book. I would write the fifth and sixth if I weren't too lazy, and if I thought anyone would be willing to go to the trouble of reading an entire AU version of the last three Harry Potter books. While reading this, please keep in mind that this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction story. Any criticisms would be appreciated, but please don't be too harsh.

Thanks to my sister, who provided many ideas, entire sections of the storyline, who reviewed the chapter scrupulously, and who also had compiled all of the loose plotline ends in the first four books. She's essentially the co-author, aside from the fact that she's not actually penning any of the chapters – so far.

The characters and most locations (Of course, not London or anything) in this story are property of J.K. Rowling.

---

Harry relaxed a few moments on the floor, slowly rolling his invisibility cloak up in his hands. "Too close," he murmured. Realizing that he'd performed several spells, not all of which were even ministry-approved, Harry groaned, and pushed himself to standing position. At least they wouldn't be able to send the letter to Grimmauld Place. Or was that a good thing? Perhaps that would make it seem as though he was fleeing from them?

He was sure it would, and so opened the front door in order to step into non-concealed territory. Outside, he saw what to him appeared to him to be a battalion of Death Eaters. Of course, it was only about half a dozen, and they couldn't see him… Or could they? Now that the Secret-Keeper was dead, had the Fidelius Charm worn off? Or was everyone who had known the location of this stronghold now a Secret-Keeper?

All these thoughts taking place in the time it took to blink an eye, Harry quickly shut the door and threw the cloak over himself again. If they could see the location, they'd probably come in the door any second. Or would they? Could they bypass the enchantments on the door? Either way, Harry didn't want to find out. He gathered up his stuff and sat in a corner, under his invisibility cloak.

He silently willed Kreacher to hurry and return back. He took the time to silently open his trunk, peer into the parchment laden bag, and feel the piles of books he'd purchased – some from Flourish and Blotts, others Hedwig had picked up on her decidedly indirect path back to Number Four, Privet Drive.

Privet Drive. Petunia, under the Imperius Curse. The protective enchantment broken before his seventeenth birthday. He was suddenly very glad that he'd concealed the plans from his Aunt, glad that he'd been planning for so long, glad that – _crack_.

Kreacher appeared. "Master?" he croaked.

"Over here, Kreacher. How did things go?" He saw Kreacher bleeding. "Kreacher! Can you heal yourself?"

"No, Master. It is a wound inflicted by Dark Magic."

"How's everyone else?"

The elf's face looked particularly sour. "Your family is safe, as is Dobby. All at the Burrow." Harry let the patronus in Number Four, Privet Drive fade out of existence, now sure that everyone that needed to be protected was safe.

Harry was about to open his bag and get out his newly purchased copy of _Advanced Healing and __Herblore_ when a rap came on the door. He stuffed the bag back into his trunk, gathered his stuff, and ordered Kreacher to take them to the Burrow. He caught a glimpse of an enraged Bellatrix bursting through the door before he and Kreacher were squeezed through the airless space of Apparition. As they arrived in the house, Harry yelled, "Hermione! Get down to the kitchen, now!"

As he opened his suitcase and again grabbed out the small bag, he heard footsteps. Hermione burst through the door, at once elated and worried. "What's –"

"Summon the copy of _Advanced Healing and __Herblore_. Kreacher's hurt. Now, Hermione! It's in here." He handed her the bag she'd enchanted. "He's been harmed by Dark Magic."

"Wh –"

"I don't know any more, Hermione." Several more footsteps approached from other parts of the house. Harry's vision was suddenly blurred, and he realized that his glasses had fallen off. "Mrs. Weasley? Mr. Weasley? Bill? Lupin?"

"We're here, Harry, dear," came Mrs. Weasley's voice, and Harry felt his glasses pressed into his hand. "What's happened?" Harry heard several people's questioning voices.

Putting on his glasses, Harry disregarded the inquiries, and said, "You need to set up a Fidelius Charm, Mrs. Weasley. Now."

"Harry, we already have. Didn't you think, after the infiltration of Hogwarts, last year –"

"Good, good. And the Dursleys. Where are they?"

"The Dursleys? Only Petunia came. Did you tell her the location of the Burrow? Did you tell the others? Then Kreacher over here stunned her, and we've been trying to revive her since."

There were a few moments of silence while he tried to comprehend. Too much had happened after so much time of solitary planning for him to absorb much more without rest. "I'm Secret-Keeper? Wow … Thank you. Petunia's under the Imperius Curse. Keep her stunned until you know how to deal with it."

There were several moments of silence. "Dobby!"

The elf appeared, shamedfaced. "Harry Potter, Dobby could not get the Dursleys to the Burrow."

"Dobby, it's because this place is under a Fidelius Charm. You'll have to take me to them, so I can tell them the location. Don't worry, Dobby, it's not your fault you couldn't get them in." After being squeezed through Apparition, tugged again by small elf hands, he found himself face to face with the most purple-faced Vernon he'd ever seen. "We're going to Eleven-fifty-two, tower court. Dudley, Vernon, remember that."

"What on the Bloody Earth do you mean, boy?! How dare you … What happened?"

"Death Eaters broke into your house. Your wife is being controlled by them. Along with her urging," Harry began to speak automatically, telling of what had happened. Petunia _had_ asked him to protect the family, and then ordered Harry outside. Had Petunia, perhaps, not been a part of the plan? No, the timing was too perfect.

When Harry had finished explaining, his thoughts much as confused as Vernon's and Dudley's faces appeared, Vernon looked him in the eye and asked, "We're going to that ruddy w- wizard's has broken into our house year after year after year?"

"Yes. Otherwise, you're probably going to be tortured and killed."

"What have you done with Petunia?"

With much more conviction than he felt, Harry said, "She's under the control of the Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters? Sounds like a bit of bloody rubbish to me."

Out of patience for his uncle's behavior, Harry said, "Look. If you want to take your chances, go ahead. I'm offering you safety, and I'd suggest you take it."

Uncle Vernon looked on the brink of refusing to stay with Wizards, but Dudley cut in. "Let's go, dad." His voice sounded fearful. "I don't want to be tortured."

Vernon looked at his son. "He's probably lying, Duddy!"

Dudley looked at his father, honesty, for the first time in Harry's recollection, deeply etched in his face. "Harry's saved me before; I think he's telling the truth."

In ten minutes' time, Harry found himself again in the comfortable home of the Weasleys. His uncle and cousin had gone – led by Mr. Weasley – to check on Aunt Petunia. Hermione had not been able to heal Kreacher, but had found a spell that at least restricted bleeding from the wound. Kreacher had required Mrs. Weasley to wrap the wound, not able to bear the touch of a muggle-born.

In the ensuing calm, Harry again realized that he was unreachable for the ministry. He looked around, and found it relatively empty, save Kreacher lying still, on Mrs. Weasley's orders, Mrs. Weasley fixing food, and Hermione and Ron in quiet conversation. "Mrs. Weasley, I have to get out of the Fidelius Charm. I used magic, and I don't need the ministry coming after me as well as Voldemort."

"Harry, what happened? You have been refusing to answer any questions whatsoever. You showed up with two house elves, one of which was wounded by dark magic; three muggles, one of whom is stunned and imperiused and now you tell us that you were forced to use magic?"

Hermione now jumped in. "Yes, Harry, and what have you been doing all summer?"

"I'll tell you on the way to and at the border of the Fidelius Charm. Oh, and have you set up wards around the house? Muffliato, Protego Totalum, and Protego Apparitium?"

"Since when do you know about wards?"

"Safety's more important than that right now. Have you put up the wards?"

Hermione looked stunned. "I didn't even know about the last one. Or, rather, I knew about it, but didn't know the incantation."

"You can cast it on the way there, and then we can talk. Ron, Mrs. Weasley, could you come, too?"

Mrs. Weasley looked at him with concern. "Of course, dear." With a wave of her wand, she set the cooking pot simmering, safely protected from burning. She led the way out of the house, Hermione muttering along the way, apparently trying to master the casting of anti-apparition wards. Mrs. Weasley was apparently waiting for Hermione to be able to participate in the conversation, because the moment Hermione stopped muttering, Mrs. Weasley spoke. "Harry, what happened?" Harry explained all that had transpired in the past day. By the time he was done, they were comfortably seated on the curb in front of the Burrow, with Harry glancing at the sky. "I can't blame you for having planned your escape. It did get you out of there alive. But you said you were waiting for a package. What was the package?"

"It's just got some books in it."

"Why was it so important for you to have so soon? Harry, this is your life you're playing with. But somehow, I don't think that you were risking your life staying at that aweful house over something as trivial as books."

"The house was actually under the protection of an enchantment…" Harry described what he understood of the protection the house had provided him when he could still arguably call it home.

"What sort of books are these that you bought?" Why was she so insistent on that topic? Perhaps she knew that it was a key to making him reveal his plans.

"Just about magic and stuff."

"So when you had Hermione enlarge that bag so much, it was only for books?"

"Yeah," he responded, hoping she'd drop the subject.

"There must have been a lot of books. Why do you need that many? You've never gotten any extra ever before! You haven't even received your schoolbooks list yet!"

Harry wasn't sure whether it was more dangerous to question the legality of buying books or of telling Mrs. Weasley now that he would not be attending Hogwarts that year. Figuring quickly, under her scrutinizing eye that he would have to do the latter anyway, and she might forget the former, Harry was about to speak, when Hermione said, "We're not going to Hogwarts this year, Mrs. Weasley."

"You what?" Mrs. Weasley's scream lingered in the air for a terribly long time.

"That's why Harry got the books. We're not going to Hogwarts, because it's not safe there. Remember last year? That was with Dumbledore watching. Dumbledore's gone now. Will we even be safe?"

"Hogwarts still has enchantments on it that even Harry's books don't have." Mrs. Weasley's voice was shrill, and Harry knew that Hermione had hit a spot that would make the old days with the Dursleys look pleasant. "And it's got teachers that can teach stuff better than those books. You wouldn't know, because you haven't reached the level of magic skills that require it, but the higher up you get in magic, the more you need a real teacher. If you've got ideas of going off and killing You-Know-Who on your own, or fulfilling any quest Dumbledore might have sent you on, then I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to let you!"

There was no use denying the accusation. It was obviously true. "Not all of the tasks are of Dumbledore's planning."

"So now you're coming up with your own plans of taking on You-Know-Who? Your parents didn't die for you so that you could go off on some glorified journey and get yourself killed!"

Hermione and Ron started speaking simultaneously, but Harry raised a calm hand to silence them. "Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate your worrying about me. I love you for it. But the Death Eaters are coming after me anyway, no matter what I do. Today showed that. If I'm at Hogwarts, then I'm drawing attention to Hogwarts. I'm putting everyone there in danger, and if the Death Eaters are watching me, then it makes it easier to watch members of the Order, as well.

"And about your statement that I'm going on a glory-quest: I'm not doing this alone. I think differently than Wizards, though. I grew up as a muggle. I couldn't rely on the flick of a wand to draw up a chair. I think of things that wizards don't. Has anyone, for instance, considered muggles as an offensive tool against the Death Eaters?"

Hermione looked shocked. "But, Harry, the International Statute of Secrecy –"

"Hermione, you grew up as a muggle. You know how inventive they can get. People have only considered magical creatures to recruit, but a majority of the human population is muggle. We'd have a huge advantage if they agreed to help. No wizard would think of that. Mrs. Weasley, I can't recruit from Hogwarts. I can't _work_ from Hogwarts."

Mrs. Weasley looked troubled. She was about to launch an argument, when a letter fell at Harry's feet. "Here it is. Let's take a look." He opened the envelope, and read the note upon it:

Mr. Harry Potter,

The Ministry of Magic has received intelligence that this afternoon at approximately fifty-six minutes past three, you performed numerous spells, including an unregistered spell, a Patronus, and numerous stunning spells.

You have, prior to this date, broken the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery three times, the first having resulted in a warning, and the latest having resulted in a full trial. We believe this to have been ample warning.

In addition to this breach, you have resided in locations unreachable to the Ministry of Magic since the aforementioned crime. Under different circumstances, we would have been required to take legal action against you for both of these offenses, but, having examined the location of your magic, we recognize signs of Death Eater invasion, and realize that the attempts may have been in self-defense. For your own safety, we strongly urge you to stay in safety. If the Ministry of Magic can offer you assistance, we will be willing to do so.

Mafalda Hopkirk

Misuse of Magic Office

_Ministry of Magic_

He breathed a sigh of relief, handing it to Hermione, who read it aloud. He was free. Although if he had been expelled from Hogwarts, it would have been so much easier to convince Mrs. Weasley that it was a good thing to have happened.

When Hermione was done, Harry was congratulated and hugged. But Mrs. Weasley still looked worried about him. "Mrs. Weasley," he said tiredly, as adrenaline left his system., "I'm really tired right now. Could we discuss this later? I –"

"Of course, dear. Let's get you some dinner, and then you can go straight to bed. No talking about today's events, now. If anyone asks, I'll answer their questions. You need some rest."

When they got back into the house, they were met by the sounds of Uncle Vernon fuming, "Release my wife, or I'll shove your wand right up your nose!"

Mr. Weasley was about to respond, when Mrs. Weasley said, "No arguing now. Let Harry get a night's rest, and we'll talk about it all later."

At her words, Uncle Vernon turned around and roared, "What's going on, boy? They say you ordered to have this done to Petunia!"

Resisting the urge to openly goad him on, Harry said, "She's under the Imperius Curse, Vernon."

"Imperius? She's been cursed? Who of your lot did this, or was that what you ordered?"

Mrs. Weasley was appalled. "Don't you speak to Harry like that! You were lucky he helped you get out alive! Now you let him eat his dinner in peace, and let him get some rest. I can answer any questions you're likely to ask." Harry had never heard such derision in Mrs. Weasley's voice. Harry spotted the Weasley twins in a corner, armed with their wands and some mischief Harry couldn't see. They were eying Vernon sneakily, but before they set any of the

Vernon's lip trembled with fury. Foreseeing a fight whose intensity he wasn't sure wouldn't break the silencing ward around the house, Harry cut in. "It's alright, Mrs. Weasley. He always speaks to me like that. Vernon, my Aunt's under the Imperius curse. It means that the people who are trying to kill me have got control of her. They're really cruel wizards, and they hate muggles. They hate any relation to muggles. They go muggle-hunting. If I hadn't had her stunned, they'd've probably have made her throttle you, Dudley, and the rest of us in our sleeps, and then probably would have had her kill herself, too. She was the one that allowed the Death Eaters to enter your house. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed. I expect to hear no complaint out of you, Vernon, because now you're in the Weasleys' hospitality, and if you even appear to abuse that, I will have no qualms about kicking you out and letting you fend for yourself. They're much too nice to have to endure your atrocious company unnecessarily. Do you understand? Good night." He marched off to the stairs, stopped abruptly, and asked a stunned Mrs. Weasley, "Where would you like for me to stay?"

"You can sleep in Ron's room, Harry. There's only one bed in there today, but Ron won't mind sleeping on the floor one night, will you, Ron?" Ron shook his head mutely. Harry looked at him and Hermione in apologetic acknowledgement of the fact that they hadn't spoken yet, and headed up the stairs.

When the door to Ron's room next opened, Ron found Harry on the floor cross-legged. "When I said you could have my bed, I meant it."

After a while, Harry calmly said, "No. No, that's fine. You take the bed. I won't be using it."

"No, really, Harry, my mum'll kill me if she finds out I slept in the bed. And she told me to bring you up dinner."

"Leave it there; I'll eat later. I've got to do Occlumency exercises, Ron. Since today's not been at all peaceful, this is a particularly good opportunity. I won't be sleeping for hours." Though Harry's eyes were closed, he could feel Ron's puzzled eyes on him. He heard Ron's footsteps go to the bed, and expected to hear the sounds of Ron sleeping before long. Instead, though, Ron sat down beside him.

"Everybody's worried about you, Harry. You're different than you were."

Harry knew that Ron was serious. Occlumency excercises would have to wait. He opened his eyes, and moved to lean against the bed. "Ron, when I told you early last year that I would have to kill Voldemort, I didn't realize what all it entailed, but I was determined to do so, since I knew that was the only way Voldemort's reign would end in a reasonable amount of time. I didn't quite realize what it would entail, but I meant it wholeheartedly. A month ago, when I told you that I wasn't going to Hogwarts, I meant it. Again, I didn't realize what it would entail. In this last month, I've been slowly realizing what all that meant I'd have to do. We never really worked hard in school, Ron. Hermione did, but we didn't.

"All this past month has been composed of my realizing that I might just pay for my negligence in my years at Hogwarts with my life, and with the lives of others. Now, I'm realizing that there was some purpose to all those papers in Potions, in Transfigurations, and Charms. In hunting horcruxes, we're going to need all the knowledge we can get. I couldn't have even gotten into the cave on my own, much less gotten out. In fighting Voldemort, spells like 'Protego' and 'stupefy' are useful, but they aren't going to get me through. We've been lucky time and again, but in the end, luck isn't going to kill Voldemort, and it's not going to destroy the Horcruxes." Harry got up and realized he no longer had his bag of books and plans. "Could you get Hermione, and ask her to bring the bag I gave her today?"

Ron looked puzzled. "Yeah."

"I've got plans in that bag. Lots of plans. And don't wake your mom. Her wandering in and seeing all of the plans would not help at all."

Within a dozen minutes, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in the room with the plans lain out around them.

Hermione looked impressed. "Harry, before we begin, I want to say … you've matured a lot in the past month. Just don't forget to relax some."

"Can I afford to relax? Every day, Voldemort gets stronger, and every day, he kills more people. He comes closer to killing me, closer to ruling Britain, then the world."

She looked at him pointedly. "If you're not careful, you're going to burn yourself out."

Harry had no argument. He knew that, in the past, he'd probably have retorted, but he realized that Hermione was trying to protect him. "Thanks for watching out for me." Hermione and Ron both displayed surprised glances, but said nothing. "There will be time to relax at the wedding, though." Ron snorted. "Until then, I'm going to do as much as I can. When is the wedding, by the way?"

"It's going to be in a couple of weeks. Mrs. Weasley's been cleaning up the house, but if you ask me, there's not much more that can be cleaned. So about your books…" The three stayed up for several more hours, discussing and improving the already-made plans, and brainstorming more areas that needed planning. Harry was glad he had his friends with him. Though he hardly admitted it to himself, he was scared. He'd never felt more prepared, but he'd also never felt more helpless.


End file.
